Bertram, as previously arranged, then called for his friend, and as they drove home together he made his attempt The lawyer's prophecy was literally fulfilled. Otto overflowed in expressions of the greatest gratitude for an offer so thoroughly characteristic of his generous friend, and which, for the sake of their long friendship, he would unconditionally accept--if there were any occasion for it. But that, thank goodness, was not the case. And then came the wretched old story which Bertram knew by heart already, and to which, for all that, he now listened; not, as before, with disgust, but with an odd feeling of anxiety and doubt. To be sure, mere friendship was not sufficient. He would have required another title, one giving the right to demand what now he begged for in vain. Should he venture upon the word that was trembling on his lips, and that yet was ever beating a cowardly retreat to the tremulous heart? Cowardly? No! It would have been cowardice, miserable cowardice, if he had spoken it; cowardice, trying to take by miserable money-bribes a fortress invincible to valour and high courage; cowardice and treason, treason to the sanctity of a love which had hitherto been unselfish and as pure as the heart of the great waters. If things came to the worst, if it was a question of guarding the beloved child against common want, she would be noble enough not to refuse the helping hand of a protecting friend. But woe to him if that hand were not unsullied; if even the shadow of a suspicion of selfishness fell upon it! And as they thus drove homewards, with the evening darkening around them, he fixed his eye on high, where now the heavenly lights were appearing in ever-increasing numbers, with ever-growing splendour; and he reverently repeated to himself the poet's great saying of the stars above, in whose majestic beauty man should rejoice without coveting their possession. XI.